Sword and Quill Working Title
by Kajorma
Summary: A renaissance world with gunpowder and natural gas, society is divided into strict castes.  Cinzia, one of the Nobile, plans sweeping change, but to make progress, war is inevitable.


Cinzia stood at her study window watching the city bustle below her, sipping a warmed wine from an ornate silver goblet. She was dressed in formal attire, ready to make her appearance on the city streets. Her salt and pepper hair was pushed up in the large buns that had recently become popular; she had long ago seen the value in keeping up with the current styles. Her dress, for instance, was an elegant green brocade with a long train, and a low cut neckline that revealed a white undergarment made of a soft wool. The material was gorgeous, and she had to admit that she was fond of the style. On the other hand, the stiff linen collar that extended out to her shoulders and formed a semi-circle around her head could only have been designed by someone who never imagined themselves wearing one. Still, she had to admit, the effect was rather striking.

Cinzia went to great lengths to secure for herself the image of being graceful and dignified, but she had never been considered a beautiful woman. True, when she was a girl, she was considered pretty, but that was before the pox had come. Hundreds had died that year, and had she not been Nobile, then she surely would have joined them. As it was, scars covered half of her body, marring her neck and face. Since that time, she had lived as an outsider within her caste. Coming from a powerful family, she was respected, but she never truly belonged. She reflected that her apartness may very well have led her to where she stood today.

In the streets below, people were celebrating the lantern festival. As far as she could see, the streets were packed with revelers. Merchants were selling torches and spirits; trying to squeeze every bit of money they could out of the night. Monks moved solemnly through the crowds in their ceremonial blue tunics, as if they were trying to remind people of the significance of the night. Musicians, actors, and performers of every kind worked their ways through the streets. Even the Roditore seemed to enjoy themselves, sharing what scraps the citizens drunkenly passed out to them, and huddling around the bonfires that the city provided.

This night signified the end of winter, and the beginning of a new year. Her instructors had told her that long ago, Dragon had given the gift of fire to mankind, in order to ward off the bitter cold, but that it was Warrior who instructed man in how to use the gift to harm one another. Cinzia let out a mirthless chuckle. The stories supposed that man had to be told how to do harmas if mankind needed that help.

Part of her would always believe in the Pantheon, but she had seen far too many unanswered prayers to believe that they would intercede on behalf of a mortal. Still, as this was the night that Dragon had given the gift of fire to mankind, Cinzia thought it only fitting that her new beginning should start on this night as well.

She heard boots echoing on the marble floors down the corridor. Her aid, a Soldato by the name of Cosma silently entered the study. "Lady Gonzaga, your guest has arrived."

Cinzia continued to watch the town below. "Send him in, Cosma." He left as silently as he had come.

Her guest entered the room and placed papers on her desk. "I have what you asked for. Maps, guard placement, where the prisoners are held... everything."

She turned to face him. "And Glauco?"

"Suspects nothing. I doubt he'll even remember anything that went on tonight. Even if he does remember, there were a group of us there, and I did nothing to call attention to myself."

Cinzia looked over the documents. "Excellent, good work."

Her guest hesitated, not sure how to proceed. "You know, we don't have to do this. We can still walk away, and no one would ever know about our plans."

She kept her voice level, "Yes. We could. We could go back to the way things have been and just close our eyes."

"Now look..." He tried to interject.

"No." she slammed the goblet down on the table, far more forcefully than she had intended. "This is about justice. It should never have come to this, but it has. There is no use in talking about the way things should be. This is the way things are. If we do not fight, here and now, we will never have another chance."

"Is this life of luxury really so bad? Even if we succeed, there will be a war."

"If that's what it takes, then so be it." She forced herself to calm down. "I will not back down this time."

He looked at her for a moment, measuring her resolve. "Alright then. I will be ready."

As he left, she prepared herself to meet the people below, wondering how many of them would be killed in the coming storm.


End file.
